


Spider Storm

by HystericalHerbs



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers Compound, Central Park, F/M, Guilt, Mutation, Pheromones, Runaway Peter, Sick Peter, Super Dads, X-Gene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 15:03:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15512433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HystericalHerbs/pseuds/HystericalHerbs
Summary: A strange storm leaves Peter sick and less able than usual to function like a normal human being. Soon it begins to affect him on a more physical level than the radioactive spider bite ever did. Alone and afraid of what other horrific surprises his transformed DNA has in store, he abandons the Avengers compound to protect his friends from himself. They have other ideas.





	Spider Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Still working on the title. I'm not really sure when this is set. I guess Civil War has happened already? Don't expect the whole timeline to make sense. I know that Cindy and Peter are older in the comics when they meet each other. In this story, I'm thinking that Peter has just graduated high school. Same deal as the comics, Peter freed Cindy from a bunker, but I'm not going to deal with the Morlun storyline (though I borrowed a line from it). Now they're living at the Avengers Compound together with Tony and Steve. Apologies for the lack of indentation for new paragraphs and dialogue.

 

Peter had been feeling off all day. His spidersenses in hyperdrive, nausea making his stomach squirm.  The weather didn’t help. The sky was overcast, and the air was thick with electricity. Whatever Tony had been doing down in the shop required the power to be cut off to the rest of the compound.  The humidity felt like it was a physical thing, pressed against Peter from all sides, smothering him.

Cindy made a joke about being in heat. Peter made a vague but colourful suggestion that would be considered rude in most cultures about how she could better spend her time. Unfortunately for them, Steve was babysitting and we were forced to co-exist on opposite ends of the room. 

“May I cross into temtress’ lair for a drink of water?” Peter asked Steve, not bothering to lift his head. He’d pasted myself to the coolness of the wooden floor.

Steve looked up from his laptop. He’d been watching cute dog fails for the last fifteen minutes and did a double take.

“Have you taken an Ibuprofen like I told you to?” He asked.

“No.”

“Go into the kitchen and take an ibuprofen.” 

Cindy paused half way through painting her big toe a violent shade of lime green to shoot Peter a wink and make a purring noise as he passed her. Peter’s irritation spiked as my body reacted, powerless against her wiles. He mouthed something at her that Steve would have prickled at.

“Sure, if you say so,” said Cindy with a grin. The temperature seemed to rise a few extra degrees.

“Kids,” Steve warned, still captivated by the joy that was the cute animal side of youtube. Even Steve was at the mercy of the humidity, his skin beaded with sweat. He wore a pair of khakis and a white muscle shirt to cope. 

Cindy had her hair confined to a tangled ball at the back of her head. Wisps of her feather-light hair fell around her face. The free strands at the nape of her neck were damp and stuck to her skin. She wore a pair of black, cotton shorts and a loose, light blue tank top that didn’t do much to conceal the purple bra beneath it. 

Cindy’s joking grin was replaced by something more intense as she caught the direction of Peter’s gaze. Her eyes moved to his lips as their pheromones mingled. And Peter felt his blood rush.

“How’s that water and ibuprofen going?” Steve prompted from the couch, his chin in his hands, as he started in on a sleepy kitten video. The man had an uncanny ability to tell when things between Cindy and Peter were about to escalate. It made their spider senses look like child’s play. 

Cindy puffed air from her nose in frustration as Peter twisted around to grab himself a glass. They maintained intense eye contact as Peter swallowed the pill and chased it down with ice water. It was probably a good thing to have Steve as their babysitter. Unmasked around other girls, Peter was as about uncertain as Indiana Jones in a snake pit trying to entice a cobra from a treasure. 

With Cindy, it was different. They were two spider bunnies in the spring. Neither of them had any shame about it, unfortunately that’s just the way it goes if you’re of opposite genders and have been bit by the same radioactive spider. With Cindy, Peter’s fear of the unknown and making a fool of himself in front of a pretty girl disappeared. Which ultimately led to Peter making more of a fool of himself.

“You know–” Steve announced from the couch. 

Cindy and Peter wrenched away from each other. Neither of them had even been aware of how close they’d gotten.

“–The whole idea of chastity belts _ is _ medieval and upsetting. But I’m three seconds away from searching them on amazon.”

“I’m on the pill,” said Cindy matter-o-factly as she studied the artistry of her toenails.

Steve looked up.

“Oh?” Peter asked.

Cindy shrugged. “We won’t have someone around when we’re together all the time. It’s not a reason to… you know. But if we ever do, it will be safer.” 

“Smart. I’m not ready to father any sort of child. But especially not crazy spider babies. Plus, they’d probably have, like, four legs and four arms and be shooting webbing from spinnerets in weird places.”

“You’re not even ready for the… act of making spider babies,” Steve said, snapping the laptop closed. “You’re just spider babies yourselves.”

“Steve,” Cindy said patiently, screwing the lid back onto her nailpolish bottle. “The average age for young people to start having sex these days is 17.” 

Steve looked scandalized for a moment before recovering. “Doesn’t mean you should. Are you a lemming?”

“A what?”  
“A lemming. If all of your peers were jumping off a cliff, would you join them?”

“That depends. Maybe they’re trying to escape a fire. Maybe my lemming life is completely based off of the relationships I have, and life on my own would be too unbearable. Perhaps we all had an existential crisis together and decided that there was no place for the lemming species in this world.”

“You know what. I’m just not even going to get into this. The frustration isn’t worth it.”

“Good.” Cindy blew on her toenails, and gave them a tap. Satisfied that they were dry enough, she swung her feet off the chair and wandered over to the window, walking funny to keep her toes off the ground. “Quit trying to dad people, Steve. We all just tune you out. Besides, it makes you sound whiny.”

Ignoring Steve’s look of  displeasure, Cindy frowned as she peered out the window into the black night, and turned back to Peter. 

“Okay, I see what you mean. I’m suddenly getting amped, weird vibes that you’re in danger… or something– too.”

“Or something.” Peter responded, scratching the back of his neck irritably. He hated the waiting. The feeling that the anvil was going to drop, that it was swinging over his head and slowly, slowly coming to it’s final threads. A wave of nausea suddenly hit him as his spider senses spiked. His skin zinged with prickles from every direction. 

Cindy watched him carefully as Peter attempted to reign them in. He focused on the smoothness of the floor beneath his feet. The fabric of his clothes against his skin. It was coarse. Nearly unbearable. How badly would Cindy and Steve take it if he just ripped them off? 

Peter inhaled deeply through his nose, and walked–with great effort to maintain an appearance of normalcy–to the window at the other end of the room. Away from Cindy. 

It was strangely dark out there. Being upstate meant they were farther away from the light pollution of the city. But even then, there had always still been a dusty, orange light on the horizon. A bit of moonlight or starlight peeping through what clouds might’ve been blanketing the sky. But besides the compound’s orange lights–though even they seemed to be choked out by the darkness–it was black as tar out there. An off, sticky darkness that reached out hungrily to encompass all around it. 

Lightning, followed by a deafening clap of thunder, lit up the dome of cloud. It was an unnatural, violent purple. A nightmarish, swirl of cotton candy set to engulf the earth.

“It’s like a bad acid trip from the sixties” Cindy gasped, but was cut off by the strobe show of lightning flashes illuminating the angry candy floss.

The compound shook with the force of the booming thunder, rattling the dishes in the cabinets, and sending Peter and Cindy’s hands up to protect their sensitive ears. Then water gushed down from the sky as though the swirling mass of cloud had a wound split open.

The rain was not clear and silver. Steve, who had joined Peter at the window, slid open the patio door to reach one hand outside. After a moment, he drew it back to himself, eyebrows furrowed, and showed his hand to Peter. Cindy came over to get a look too. The rain was milky.

A stabbing pain dropped Peter to his knees. Nausea spilled what little food he’d had that day over the floor.

“Peter”, Steve and Cindy said in unision.

“It’s my head…” Peter groaned through gritted teeth. And the thickness of the air. The dooming candy floss sky. The flashing lights and unrelenting noise. Peter tried and failed to still the trembling that had taken over his body.

“I need to get out of here,” he gasped as another blow of thunder slammed into the house. 

Peter pulled himself to his feet by the arm of the couch. Steve and Cindy hovered, preparing to catch him should he fall as he made his way unsteadily through the hall. Every painful throb was like an icepick tapping through his prefrontal lobe. Steve wrapped his arm under Peter’s shoulder and around his side so that Peter could lean into him for support. He all but carried Peter, who flinched with every thunderclap, down to the basement level of the compound. Cindy followed close behind. 

“Why is it affecting him this way, and not me?” Cindy asked, hands clasped around her ears. “I’m the one with the senses on crack.”

A cold sweat had begun to pour off from Peter as the pain in his head continued, and his hyper alertness increased. Any slight ‘tings’ or creaks, or vibrations in the air left Peter twitching. 

Tony appeared from the hall that lead to his workshop. 

“Hey, I was just going up to catch the light show...” he paused as he took in Peter’s condition. “Well he looks awful. Weren’t you supposed to be babysitting? Did someone not leave you with the poison control number?” He asked Steve.

Peter ducked just as another roll of thunder shook the house. His skin felt as though it were dancing, trying to jump from his muscle and sinew. The sickening sensation made him gag. Cindy took Peter’s other side and rubbed circles into his back. Aware once again of the material on his body, Peter shuddered. 

“Tony–” Steve said sternly. 

“Skipping over the why and how to the immediate situation. Got it.”

Tony lead the awkward procession to a study with a table of electronic maps, and real aged map on the walls. Bookshelves took up one end of the study. Tony had wanted to convert them all to electronic files. This was nearly followed by a second civil war between the avengers–those in favour, and the traditionalists who refused to give up book feel. Tony went to the bookshelf and pulled the tail of an ugly dog statue made of gears and recycled cans. There was a grinding noise and the bookshelf swung open.

“Remind me why you have that statue,” said Steve in disgust as they entered into the room behind the bookshelves

“Saw it in a shop,” answered Tony. “It was too ugly to leave behind. Initially I’d gotten it to do the service of destroying it. Only for some reason I started calling it Bucky in my head and then felt obligated to keep it. Maybe don’t tell him that.”

“That would be wise,” Steve said.

The room behind the bookshelves had mostly pale wood flooring, except for where it split levels for the seating area. The sunken lounge had a plush, warm carpet to go with an inviting looking sectional. It faced a hanging fireplace. 

A peaceful forest print took up one wall. The hanging shelves were made up of reclaimed wood, stained to repeat the colour of the darker wooden beams in the high ceiling. Three potted hanging baskets of ferns hung from the beams. A diffuser lantern puffed up the scent of lavender and cedar when the avengers entered the serene space.

“Wow. Never took you for a feng shui enthusiast,” Cindy said to Tony, looking around the room appreciatively. It was mercifully quiet as the bookcase closed behind them. She twitched. “But there are no windows.”

“I had a small team of psychologists and room designers collaborate to come up with a room designed for occasions such as this,” Tony said, gesturing to Peter as he was being helped to the sectional by Steve.

“Put on your mask, kid,” Tony said, throwing Peter a red bundle of fabric.

“If I puke..” Peter held up the mask tentatively.

“Don’t. Hold onto your chunks for just a minute while the mask analyzes you.”

Peter pulled it over his head. “Hey Karen,” he greeted the suit. It took a moment to adjust to the suits’ focusing mechanisms. 

“Hello, Peter,” Karen responded eagerly.

“Hey, can you tell what’s going on with me? I’m not feeling so hot.”

“On the contrary, Peter, you’re very hot. I’m registering you at ten degrees and climbing over the normal human body temperature.”

“Karen says I’m hot, guys,” Peter said.

“Karen,” Tony demanded, “Analyze bug boy for me.”

“Of course, Mr.Stark,” Karen said, her voice outside of the mask. She repeated the temperature reading and added that Peter was experiencing heightened nervous system activity. His abnormal temperature wasn’t yet a risk, as Peter’s supered body was adjusting to the changes easily enough. But without a blood sample, not much else could be said. 

Peter ripped the mask off. It was infuriating having anything against his skin, but it was especially unbearable to have something over his face, even his mask. His shirt was next to follow. He wriggled out of it as though it was trying to strangle him.

Steve put the back of his hand on Peter’s forehead. Peter shuddered away. 

“He’s burning up.”

“I’ll need to analyze his blood for any viruses,” Tony said. “I’ll run to the lab and get a syringe.”

“What? No. No need. I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Peter protested woozily. “The headache is already letting up.”

“You’re not scared of needles, are you?” Tony asked mockingly.

“It’s okay, Peter. I wasn’t particularly fond of them either,” Steve consoled.

“I just…” the idea of being stuck with a needle as sensitive as he was to touch was revolting. It made his stomach turn.

His senses flared, and he found himself upside down on the ceiling, but not before feeling a stinging pinch in his shoulder.

“Will this be enough?” Cindy asked. Peter looked down at her. Her fingertips were webbed and calcified to create razor sharp claws. The tip of her clawed index finger had a bead of blood on it.  Cindy broke off the claw and handed it to Tony. He stared at her a moment before closing his hand around the end.

“I’m getting the new Jarvis to watch my back around you.” 

“You might also want to check out the rain,” Steve held out his arm, which was still wet with the strangely discoloured rain.

Tony made an inappropriate comment about what the substance was comparable to.

“See Peter gets it,” said Tony quickly, before Steve could reward him with a swat to the back of his head. A swat from Captain America was very indesirable. 

It must have been the maddening sensations crawling through his body, the relief of being away from the thunder and headache. That paired with the surreal experience of seeing his hero make a sex joke gave him the giggles.

“More than a year of him hardly able to string together a full sentence around you, and it’s an episode of immaturity what finally lowers his guard?” Steve grumbled.

“Hey, I’m just as surprised as you. I mean, that wasn’t even my best. I came into this world making immature comments. The _ actual  _ reason why young Tony was spanked upon leaving wombage. True story.”

Steve looked very hard at Tony.

“Moving on,” Tony said quickly. He touched a white pad in the bookshelf that made it swing open.

Peter flinched as the thunder attacked him with overzealous spider senses.

“Kids, behave yourselves,” Tony said. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Also don’t do anything I would do. Just...Don’t move. Stay.”

Steve sighed. “Come get us if anything seems amiss, okay, Cindy?” 

Cindy flashed Steve a thumbs up, and he followed Tony out into the den. She twitched again as the door closed behind the retreating backs of the two men. Ten years in a bunker would do that to a person. She looked around the room helplessly for a moment as if caught between two impulses. Then she straightened and went into the little, seascape themed bathroom across the room. Peter heard the sound of running water before she returned with a wet cloth.

“Mind if I come up?” She asked him.

Peter exhaled loudly, the prick in his arm giving a twinge. “If you can contain your stabby impulses,”

“I’ll restrain myself.”

“Ooh. Promise?” He joked wearily.

Cindy rolled her eyes. “Sure, Petes.”

Cindy flipped herself up onto the ceiling beside Peter. Her hair was a long, dark curtain falling towards the floor. It had the effect of giving her a troll doll hairstyle. It was cute.

“Is it better up here for you?” She asked.

“Somehow, yeah.” Peter said. “I feel more protected.” He blew at her hair to make it wave.

Cindy tied back her with an elastic tat she kept around her wrist, drawing a sad sigh from  Peter. She gave a little knowing smile before lifting the cloth towards Peter’s face. He blocked it.

“C’mon. It’ll be better for you,” Cindy said, trying to maneuver around Peter’s block. He caught her wrist and shook his head.

“I just hate having anything against my skin right now. It feels as though it’s running with spiders.”

Cindy didn’t relent. “Ironic.”

“Yep.”

“Here, just let me,” she said, easily  pulling away from Peter’s grip. “I’ll be gentle.”

It was better to let Cindy have her way in the small things when she’d made up her mind about something. Otherwise she would just keep pestering. Peter winced as the cool cloth pressed against his forehead. He made to move away.

“Don’t.” Cindy snatched his wrist and pulled him closer. “Wait.”

The first minute was just as maddening as Peter had expected. Each thread of the cloth was a coarse prick against his skin. He knew exactly where the moisture from the cloth had collected to form miniscule beads of water against his brow, when they were absorbed into his pores or began to drip where the wrinkles in the cloth made it not exactly flesh with his skin. Peter closed his eyes and chewed on his lip to distract himself.

“Shh.” Cindy said softly. “Relax. Concentrate on this.” 

He felt Cindy’s fingers on his scalp even before they began to move through his hair. A wave of calm washed over him. It felt like a physical thing that draped over him like a cool blanket. The damp cloth became soothing, and Peter leaned into it. As long as kept very still, and focused solely on the little tingly tugs of Cindy’s fingers through his hair, the touch was comfortable. Still overwhelming, but better. A shiver passed through him.

“What are you doing?” He mumbled, eyes still closed.

“Hmm? What do you mean?”

“It’s like… you’re sending me mental ‘be-at-peace’ waves or something.”

“I  _ am _ trying to comfort you, but I’m not doing anything out of the ordinary. Maybe you’re catching onto some of my ‘hey, chill it, man’ vibes because of our special connection and your super heightened senses.”

“Hmm,” Peter murmured basking in the relief, muscles loosening. He hadn’t realized they’d been so tight. It didn’t matter all that much how he was receiving the emotional manipulation. All that mattered was that he wasn’t a spider hopped up on cocaine.

“Hey Peter.”

“Mmm?”

“Your...um… your pheromones are working on me.”

Peter opened his eyes. Cindy’s pupils were dilated, her scent smokey and floral. He took a deep, calming breath. And was nearly knocked to the floor by a rush of adrenaline and animalistic lust. It left him gasping. Peter choked as he scrambled to get a hold of himself.

“You okay?” Cindy asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

The rag was on the floor below them, Cindy’s hands locked around Peter’s wrists. The overwhelming need rushed away, leaving him exhausted and trembling with the remnants of desire. 

“Holy Batman,” Peter said, his voice a little strangled. “I think your pheromones just attacked me.” 

Cindy’s face was flushed. Clearly she wasn’t immune to the spike in his pheromones, either.

“I’ll be honest,” Cindy said. “I was testing something out. Looks like it worked.”

Peter frowned. They were lucky he hadn’t pounced her. 

“You were testing something?” He hissed.

“For science.”

Peter stared at her. “For science.”

“Hmm. There’s an echo–mff”

Peter cut her off with a kiss, and immediately pulled back. The restlessness and supersensory of touch proving to be too much for him. 

“Wait,” Cindy murmured, reaching forward to stroke a finger over his lip. “Come back.”

Peter closed his eyes. “Right now–” He paused as Cindy’s finger trailed down his neck. It took an amazing amount of concentration to word his thoughts ”–may not be the greatest time.”

“Shh, Peter.” Cindy’s voice was right next to his ear. Goosebumps rose on his skin. “Relax. Concentrate on this.”

A slightly wet, sucking sensation began on his neck. Peter gasped, his body going rigid before melting into the tiny kisses, eyes fluttering closed. Her lips just barely skimmed across his collarbone, making Peter squirm slightly as she left behind little patches of moisture. He pushed her from him gently, head bowed and body curled, still for a moment to get his bearings.

“I’m sorry,” he said raising his eyes to meet hers. 

Cindy brought his hand to her lips and gave it a soft peck. Then she webbed the ceiling so that they could lie back on it easily. The empty space between them connected by their held hands. 


End file.
